


Five Times Kawanishi Wanted to Hold Shirabu's Hand, and One Time He Did

by tasteofsummersnow



Series: In Love with the Salt of You [6]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: "It's Not a Date"-dates, (even though I made Goshiki cry on three different occasions ... someone arrest me please), 5+1 Things, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, HQ Rarepair Bang 2020, I SWEAR this fic is 90 percent fluff, M/M, Minor Mentions of Bullying and Blood and Threats of Violence, Oh and some blink-and-you-miss-it UshiGoshi because I am WEAK, Pining Kawanishi Taichi, Team "Shirabu wants to be seen as cool and aloof but is actually an emotion explosion", boys crying, really just 8k of Kawanishi wanting to hold Shirabu's hand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23461204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tasteofsummersnow/pseuds/tasteofsummersnow
Summary: Shirabu has nice hands, Taichi decides. It’s just a fact, so it’s not that weird a thought to have.I wonder what it would feel like to hold his hand.Now, that one might be a little weird, but Taichi has been practicing volleyball for almost three hours now, and he is running a little low on sugar, so he decides to just ignore it.---Or: the one where Kawanishi pays too much attention, first to Shirabu's hands, and then to Shirabu in general, and,oh, maybe there's a reason for that
Relationships: Kawanishi Taichi/Shirabu Kenjirou
Series: In Love with the Salt of You [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1532384
Comments: 16
Kudos: 179
Collections: HQ Rarepair Bang 2020





	Five Times Kawanishi Wanted to Hold Shirabu's Hand, and One Time He Did

**Author's Note:**

> I had never participated in a Big Bang before this fic, so I was pretty nervous, but honestly? I couldn't have asked for a better partner than the amazing Erel!! Her artwork is stunning and my heart melts every time I look at [her piece](https://twitter.com/__Erel/status/1248186308868128768/photo/1) for this fic! Thank you so much, love, it was such a joy to work with you!!! ✨✨💙💙✨✨ Make sure to check out her artwork on [insta](https://www.instagram.com/__erel) or on [twitter](https://twitter.com/__Erel)!!
> 
> A big thank you also goes out to [@ShitabuKenjirou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShitabuKenjirou/works?fandom_id=758208), talking to them always helps me put my thoughts into order and come up with new plot ideas, it's amazing! While I ended up going a different way than we talked about for that one scene ~~because I was too lazy to re-write it, shame on me~~ I doubt I could have finished this fic with as much energy and enthusiasm as I did if it wasn't for your encouragements and new ideas, so really, thank you!! 💙✨
> 
> And, last but definitely not least, [@AllMyCharactersAreGay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllMyCharactersAreGay/pseuds/AllMyCharactersAreGay) is my hero! Without her, you'd have ended up with things like "tapping his food", so really, I'm incredibly lucky to have such an amazing friend and beta, thank you so much for your help, love!!! 😭✨💙
> 
> **Important:** the "minor mention of blood, bullying and (threats of) violence" is in 3.) if you want to skip that.  
> The blood mention is for scraped knuckles, and it's a harmless injury.  
> The bullying mention can be skipped if you stop reading after "Taichi frowns. This is weird. Goshiki is annoying, yes, but he is also impossible to dislike. “Who did?”" and skip the next paragraph. After that, you're good to go, I think!  
> In order to skip the (threats of) violence, it might be best to avoid 3.) entirely, cuz while it's mostly harmless stuff, it's scattered all over the scene.  
> Stay safe, friends, yeah?💙💙
> 
> Now, I hope you'll all have as much fun reading this as I had while writing!! 🎈

1.

Taichi first notices because they’re having two on two games.

It’s one of the rare occasions that Washijou-sensei isn’t there for practice and Saitou-sensei has promptly decided to make the regulars play two on two while he concentrates on the rest of the club members.

Taichi didn’t think that it was humanly possible to miss Washijou-sensei’s practice regime but here he is. He would take endless blocking drills over this any day.

Most of the other regulars don’t seem to mind, though.

Especially Tendou-san and Semi-san are doing really well for themselves. The only thing that is holding them back from becoming a very successful beach volleyball team is how much both of them are constantly complaining about the August heat. Somehow, Taichi doubts they’d put themselves through playing volleyball outside.

However, no matter how eerily precise Tendou-san’s tosses are, the most surprising aspect of today so far must have been seeing Ushijima-san struggle with anything on the volleyball court. Granted, it’s only a result of being paired with Yamagata-san’s unpracticed blocking and spiking, but still, it’s not every day that you get to see Ushijima Wakatoshi handle anything volleyball related clumsily. The two of them have adapted quickly though, opting to let Ushijima-san handle all the attacks by going with a two attack whenever possible if Yamagata-san gets the first touch.

Even Oohira-san and Goshiki are playing a good enough game, both of them apt at receiving and at hitting tosses that aren’t absolutely perfect.

The only ones who are doing badly are Shirabu and Taichi. Which isn’t all that surprising. Neither of them is particularly skilled at receives since they usually don’t have to do them, they lack in serving power, Shirabu’s block is low, Taichi’s toss average at best and Shirabu’s spiking is … awful. There is no better word for it.

In short, practice today is hell.

Taichi can’t seem to catch his breath, he has to work at least twice as hard as usual and it doesn’t keep the other teams from absolutely crushing them. Shirabu has been scowling ever since the first game, and by now, he’s positively seething with frustration.

Things reach a new low during their fourth game when Yamagata-san manages to block one of Shirabu’s spikes.

On the other side of the net, Yamagata-san is celebrating his first ever block point, but Taichi is more concerned with Shirabu who looks like he’s about to punch something.

“Time out,” Taichi calls, even though he isn’t sure he technically gets to.

Ushijima-san is about to protest, but thankfully Yamagata-san takes one look at Shirabu and says: “Come on, Wakatoshi, I could use a drink! Five minutes break for everyone?”

Ushijima-san nods, Yamagata-san goes to announce the break to the others, and so Taichi picks up the ball and trails after Shirabu, who yanks his bottle out of the bottle cage.

“I hate this,” he declares as he plops down on the bench, taking a drink.

It’s rare to hear Shirabu complain about practice, especially loud enough that the senpai could overhear. Usually, he diligently does as he is told, hanging on even when Taichi has long since given up, with that incredible determination of his.

“Same.” Taichi sits down next to Shirabu, spinning the ball in his hands.

“I just feel like I don’t hit the ball properly. This is so stupid. I set hundreds of balls every day, and I’ve watched you all spike. I _know_ the mechanics behind it, so why can’t I do it?” with the last words, he slams the cap of his bottle shut with much more force than necessary.

“It’s much easier when you get uniform tosses,” Taichi tries to appease him with a shrug. “Plus, when is the last time you practiced spiking?”

“Middle school, I think. Still… Even when I get the timing right, I feel like I’m either hitting the ball with the heel of my hand, or just my fingertips, instead of the whole hand.” Shirabu still sounds frustrated.

Part of Taichi wants to tell him to just forget about it because Washijou-sensei will return tomorrow and then Shirabu will be back to endless setting drills and won’t have to worry about spiking ever again, but he has also been friends with Shirabu long enough to know that he won’t let this go until he has it figured out.

So, he holds out the ball to Shirabu. “Show me your hand positioning when you hit.”

Shirabu takes the ball into his left and pretends to hit a spike with his right.

Taichi frowns. It doesn’t look right, but he can’t really tell what’s so off about it.

“So? What’s the verdict?” Shirabu asks impatiently.

Taichi shakes his head, then simulates a spike himself, his hand landing over Shirabu’s.

The first thing that strikes him, is that Shirabu’s fingers are definitely too far apart.

The second thing is, how much smaller than his Shirabu’s hand is. His fingertips probably don’t even reach up to the third knuckle of Taichi’s own hands.

“You have small hands,” he points out before he can stop himself.

Shirabu glares at him, flustered, yanking the ball and thus his hand away from Taichi. “Fuck off. I thought you were going to help me, not insult me.”

“Just stating facts,” Taichi says with a shrug, suppressing a smile. It’s so delightfully easy to rile Shirabu up.

Shirabu huffs, but before he can turn away, Taichi says: “Your finger positioning is wrong. Here, do it again, I’ll show you.”

Grudgingly, Shirabu holds out the ball again, doing another spike motion.

“Your fingers are too far apart. They need to be something more like…” he pushes Shirabu’s fingers closer together, “… this.” Then he presses on the back of the hand. “And here is where you concentrate the power.”

He looks at Shirabu’s hand on the ball again to make sure that he got it right, and somehow finds unable to look away.

Sure, Shirabu’s hand is smaller than his own, but Shirabu’s long, wiry fingers have their own form of strength, and, no matter how much tape goes on the second knuckles, the nails are perfectly manicured, in spite of hours of daily practice.

Shirabu has nice hands, Taichi decides. It’s just a fact, so it’s not that weird a thought to have.

_I wonder what it would feel like to hold his hand._

Now, that one might be a little weird, but Taichi has been practicing volleyball for almost three hours now, and he is running a little low on sugar, so he decides to just ignore it.

He shakes his head to get rid of the thought, then says: “And if you feel like you didn’t get the timing right, you can always just toss it over in a way that Yamagata-san gets the first touch and they can’t do a two attack. We can deal with his spikes, no problem.”

“Hey, I heard that!” Yamagata-san calls from where he’s sitting with the third years and Goshiki.

Shirabu nods. “Thank you. And could you make your tosses a little higher? I’d like to have a bit more time on the run up.”

“I’ll try but no promises.”

After their break is over, they play visibly better, but in the end, they’re still the ones who have to do the most punishment drills.

Taichi can’t wait to have Washijou-sensei back.

2.

The problem with noticing things is that, once you have, it’s almost impossible to un notice them. So, ever since that time they played the two on two games, Taichi has found himself looking at Shirabu’s hands more and more. At first, it was just accidental glances, but over the course of the past month, it has somehow grown into a habit, and now, whenever Taichi is bored, he will find himself looking at Shirabu’s hands.

He has learned quite a bit, too. Like how Shirabu will always crack his knuckles before morning practice, that he has a freckle on his left pinky, just next to the fingernail, that he fiddles with his hands when he talks to Washijou-sensei, Saitou-sensei, and Ushijima-san, but not the rest of the senpai, that he clenches his fist whenever Semi-san criticizes his setting, and that he doesn’t dare to ask for a high five from Ushijima-san.

He has also found that Shirabu’s hands look best when he’s doing a back toss.

Taichi has come to that particular realization while he was standing on the court and he may or may not have horribly messed up the timing of his next quick because he was hoping to see Shirabu set to Ushijima-san again.

After the dressing down that got him from Washijou-sensei, Taichi has decided to limit his obsession with Shirabu’s hands to the times when he isn’t standing on the court.

It is for the better, especially on days like today when he can’t afford to focus on anything other than the game.

They’re having a practice match, and for the first time ever, Taichi finds himself losing against a Miyagi high school team.

Granted, none of their 3rd-years are playing because they’re all at the school’s mandatory career choice day, Washijou-sensei filled the open spots with 1st years, all of whom have never participated in any practice game for Shiratorizawa, and they’ve only played half the points of the first set, but still, they’re down by six points against Johzenji, when Washijou-sensei finally calls a time out.

Taichi fully expects to be yelled at but instead Washijou-sensei just says: “You’re losing. Fix it.”

Before Taichi can even think of where to begin, Shirabu takes a deep breath.

“All right. Goshiki, if the receive is off, I will start concentrating the ball on you. Be ready. Akakura, I need you to relax. I know that the way Johzenji plays is weird but just concentrate on the ball. If you can’t get it to me perfectly, please make sure that the receive is higher, that will give me enough time to get under the ball. That goes for everyone, not just Akakura. Sagae, you’re coming in slower than usual for your blocks. Please follow Kawanishi’s lead more precisely. Kawanishi, Suzuki, I’ll start throwing in more and more quicks. Their blocking is nothing out of the ordinary, so we should be able to score with that, okay?”

He clearly expects a response, but all the 1st-years are stunned into silence. They were already intimidated by Shirabu before this game, and this display of assertiveness is not helping. The sight of these five 1st-years, four of whom are towering over Shirabu, being cowed is highly amusing. Still, Taichi decides to intervene before Shirabu gets impatient: “Got it. And if your timing is too slow on the blocking, just go for a soft block instead.”

Shirabu nods, satisfied with that response, then he turns back to the court. “Let’s go show them that even a Shiratorizawa B team can and will kick their ass.”

“Shirabu-senpai, is… so cool!” Taichi doubts that Shirabu was meant to hear that, but just like his inside voice, Goshiki’s whispering still needs some work.

“Shut up and concentrate on scoring instead, idiot!” Shirabu grumbles, obviously flustered.

Taichi can’t help the amused grin at that, and Shirabu notices, glaring at him.

He raises his hands defensively.

“Do as Kenjirou says,” Washijou-sensei says, then: “And if you numb skulls lose here, I will make you do interval training until you drop. I expect a victory in straight sets. Go.”

As the set picks off again, Taichi watches Shirabu transform as a setter.

Shirabu is a starting player at Shiratorizawa in his second year, there has never been any doubt that he is skilled. But so far, Taichi has always thought that his value as a setter lies in the perfect uniformity of his tosses.

The Shirabu he sees now is something else entirely. As promised, he starts throwing in more and more quick sets and dumps, too, and by throwing the opponents blockers off with those, he can use Goshiki and the other wing players much more efficiently.

They’re suddenly playing with a setter-centric style that relies on speed and accuracy. It’s so vastly different from Shiratorizawa’s usual style that Taichi is surprised Washijou-sensei hasn’t called another time out to yell at them for what they’re doing.

Instead, they make one hell of a comeback, and the coaches look pleased when Johzenji calls a time out because Shiratorizawa made it to set point first. Well, Saitou-sensei does, but Washijou-sensei isn’t scowling, so that’s a win.

“Keep this up,” is all the instruction they get.

Shirabu sits down next to Taichi on the bench with a smirk on his face.

He accepts the water bottle Taichi hands him and takes a big swig.

“I kind of missed playing like this,” he admits.

“Really, I couldn’t tell,” Taichi deadpans. Shirabu just scored their last point with a setter dump that had surprised the opponent’s blockers and Goshiki, who had been coming in for an attack, in equal measure.

It’s not like Taichi minds this playing style though. He usually doesn’t get to hit so much during a game, so he’ll gladly take it.

“I want to try out our time differential attack. I have a feeling that we can do it today,” Shirabu declares.

Taichi almost chokes on the water he is drinking. They have been practicing their time differential for three weeks or so, but it’s nowhere near steady enough to be used in a game.

He tells Shirabu so, but just gets a shrug in return.

“If we mess it up, I’ll tell Washijou-sensei it was your idea.” Taichi is not risking punishment laps just because Shirabu is feeling lucky today.

“Whatever. If it shuts up that fucking undercut-guy, it’s worth it. I swear, if he calls me 'pretty boy' one more time…” Shirabu clenches his fist.

“You could always ask Goshiki to serve in his face,” Taichi proposes with a yawn. He isn’t being serious, obviously, but the suggestion still puts a gleam in Shirabu’s eyes.

He gets up from the bench and waits for Taichi to do the same. “The next time we get a clean receive in, the ball will come to you,” he declares, then marches back onto the court.

When the game resumes, Goshiki’s serve doesn’t go anywhere near the face of Johzenji’s number one but it holds so much power that it comes right back to their side of the court. Akakura gets the ball to Shirabu perfectly, and Taichi comes in for the spike.

They pulled this attack off a couple of times during practice, but never in an actual game.

It really is something else, having the opponent’s block drop down, opening up Taichi’s field of view fully. He slams the ball down bare centimeters behind the attack line right in the center of the court.

This might just be the best spike Taichi has ever hit.

The referee’s whistle announces the end of the set, and Taichi turns to Shirabu, fully expecting a high five.

What he hasn’t expected is the expression on Shirabu’s face. It’s a mixture of marvel and excitement. Taichi has never seen Shirabu smile like this. Smirk? Daily. Sneer? Has happened before. A self deprecating twitch of his lips? Yeah. But a genuinely happy smile like this? Never. It’s kind of blinding.

“We did it, Kawanishi, we did it…” he sounds like he can’t quite believe it.

Taichi ignores the weird, queasy feeling in his stomach and instead holds out his hands for a double high five.

Shirabu still has that smile on his face as he accepts it, and Taichi wants to hold on to Shirabu’s hands and the high of this moment a bit longer.

Before he can do something stupid, however, Washijou-sensei calls them over.

“Now that Kenjirou has successfully proven, _he_ can beat Johzenji, I expect the rest of you knuckleheads to step up your game. If you want to stand on the court in Tokyo one day, you should be able to beat your opponents without your setter babying you, understood?”

Taichi sighs. Maybe those two on two weren’t that bad after all.

3.

Taichi is pulled from his doze because someone won’t stop knocking at his door.

A quick look at his alarm clock tells him that it’s 1 p.m. – officially too early to deal with people on a Sunday.

Still, he usually doesn’t get visitors. Or at least not any who knock at his door. Tendou-san has this habit of just barging into Taichi’s room, and Shirabu usually texts him beforehand because “it’s too much of a bother to walk to your room if you’re napping anyway. I’d rather make sure you’re awake and not waste my time.”

Taichi considers just pulling his pillow over his head and ignoring whoever is at his door, but then the visitor calls out: “Come on, Kawanishi, I know you’re in there. Just open the fucking door.”

That’s definitely Shirabu.

Taichi sits up with a groan, rubs the sleep from his eyes and stands up. He puts on a shirt he grabs off the floor but doesn’t bother with pants. If Shirabu has a problem with that he can go annoy someone else.

He opens the door, which makes Shirabu, who was still knocking, stumble a step forward.

He catches himself in the doorframe. “Fucking finally. You sleep like a log.“ He gives a Taichi a once over and raises an eyebrow. “Nice boxers.”

“Thanks.” They’re blue with little rubber ducks on them. Taichi likes them.

“Can I come in?” Shirabu asks.

“I guess,” Taichi walks back into his room and flops down on his bed.

Shirabu follows after him and closes the door.

“Don’t go back to sleep,” he orders, goes to open the window blinds and sits down at Taichi’s desk.

“Do you have any antiseptic?”

“Hm?” Taichi is squinting, trying to adjust to the light that is now flooding his room. He probably heard that one wrong.

“Antiseptic. Do you have any?” Shirabu holds out his right hand. His knuckles are crusted in something that looks suspiciously like blood.

“What the fuck, Shirabu…” Taichi musters the strength to get up and walks over to inspect Shirabu’s hand for himself.

Before he can get a closer look, however, Shirabu pulls his hand away. “No need to worry. It’s not that bad. Just… do you have any antiseptic or not?”

“I have a first aid kit… somewhere…” It’s probably in the cabinet under the sink. Or in his desk. Or anywhere else. “It would probably be faster to go ask someone else…” he adds, partly because it’s true and partly because he doesn’t feel like looking for it. Taichi’s room is kind of a mess.

“I’ll wait,” Shirabu says a bit too quickly. As far as Taichi knows, the only thing Shirabu has ever waited for without complaint was a chance to toss to Ushijima-san.

Taichi wonders just what the hell happened. Why has Shirabu come to him instead of going to the school nurse, or at least Soekawa-san, who is the whole team’s first address for minor injuries?

He checks the drawers of his desk first.

“Why would you have a first aid kit in your desk?” Shirabu asks, his tone somewhere between impatient and mildly fascinated.

“Apparently, I don’t,” Taichi replies after having checked the last drawer. He doesn’t bother to tell Shirabu that he did spot multiple loose socks, an old toothbrush and a spoon in there.

Instead, he opens the cabinet under the sink and finds his math notebook that he was looking for last Thursday, but no first aid kit.

He ends up looking for another five minutes before he finally finds the kit at the back of his wardrobe, buried under a bunch of winter clothing that he didn’t get around to hanging up properly.

He spins around triumphantly, but Shirabu doesn’t look up from what he’s looking at something on Taichi’s desk.

It gives Taichi the time to crumple up the little note stuck to the kit reading “In the hope that you won’t ever need it. Love, Dad” before Shirabu can see it.

“You done snooping?” he asks, walking over to the desk.

“Sure.” Shirabu slowly tears his eyes away from whatever he’s looking at. “I keep forgetting that your handwriting is ridiculously girly. Also, I’m pretty sure you solved 4b wrong. The factorization–“

“If you want to talk about math, you should have gone to Goshiki,” Taichi interrupts him. It’s Sunday, and the homework isn’t going to be graded anyway, math is the last thing on his mind today.

He’s not sure how exactly he expected Shirabu to react to that (maybe an eyeroll or a glare) but it definitely wasn’t tensing up, with a frown on his face.

Taichi puts two and two together. “Shirabu,” he begins slowly, “please tell me you didn’t punch Goshiki.”

“What the fuck, Kawanishi? Of course I didn’t punch Goshiki!”

“If you punched him, I’m out. You know he’s the senpai’s favorite and I refuse to go down as your accomplice.”

“I just said I didn’t!”

“Yeah, well, that would be a whole lot more convincing if you didn’t tell me how much you want to strangle him at least once a week.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake…” Shirabu groans. “I didn’t punch him, I defended him.”

… What.

“What.”

“Look, it doesn’t matter. But I didn’t punch Goshiki, okay.” Shirabu refuses to look at him.

“I can always go and ask Goshiki about what happened…” Taichi reminds him.

Shirabu shoots him a glare. “Why am I friends with you again?”

“Because you need someone to complain about our weird-ass teammates to and I let you have the mushrooms in my food?”

“I hate you. I’ll tell you, okay, but can we first get these cleaned up? It hurts and I don’t want it to get infected.” He holds out his right hand and Taichi winces. The knuckles really are crusted in blood and there are some flecks of dirt on there, too.

“You should wash that off with water first,” he advises.

Shirabu throws him an annoyed look but he walks over to the sink and does as he’s told, then he sits back down on the chair. “Happy now?”

Not really. Shirabu’s knuckles are scraped pretty badly.

Taichi opens the first aid kit and takes out an antibiotic ointment.

Shirabu holds out his uninjured hand to take it, but Taichi bats it away.

“I’ll do it. It’ll be quicker. You just tell me why your hand looks like you punched a wall.” He kneels down in front of Shirabu and dribbles some ointment on a cotton wool wad.

“Because I did,” Shirabu admits quietly.

Taichi’s head whips up to stare at him incredulously. “You did what?”

“Look, you don’t understand. They made him cry. They made Goshiki cry, okay?”

Taichi frowns. This is weird. Goshiki is annoying, yes, but he is also impossible to dislike. “Who did?”

“I don’t know, some first-years, I think. I was just coming back from the library when I met Goshiki and some other guys. I thought they were his friends at first but Goshiki… he was acting… not like himself, so I… I just wanted to make sure he was okay because he gets so annoying during practice when something’s off, right? And that’s when I heard them call him… they called him names. I don’t think Goshiki really understood what they were saying. But they… they were making fun of him for his infatuation with Ushijima-san, and I just…”

He clenches his fists. There’s anger burning in his eyes.

Taichi understands. “Did you punch them?” he asks, not sure if he wants the answer to be yes or no.

Shirabu shakes his head. “I wish I had. But… I couldn’t risk a suspension. I need my scholarship… but… I… but I… I grabbed the leader by his shirt and pushed him against the wall. Then I… I made some threats and to prove my point, I… I punched the wall…”

Shirabu clenches his right hand even tighter and then winces at the pain.

Taichi wants to take it and rub soothing circle on the back of his hand, but he’s not sure Shirabu would appreciate that.

So instead, he gently applies the ointment, knuckle for knuckle.

Shirabu hisses a bit.

“Practice is going to hurt with these…”

“Worth it,” Shirabu says without hesitation.

“Look at you, being all cool,” Taichi huffs with a smile, and puts two band-aids on Shirabu’s knuckles.

“Shut up,” Shirabu says, giving him a shove, but Taichi doesn’t miss the pink hue to his cheeks.

Later that day, after they have just finished watching a second movie (even though Shirabu insisted that he would need to go study after the first one), Taichi asks: “Say, what did you threaten him with anyway?”

Shirabu groans and hides his face in one of Taichi’s pillows.

“Nope, I’m not telling you that.”

“Cool, then I’ll go ask Goshiki, I’m sure he’ll gladly tell his senpai.”

“You’re the worst, you know that?”

Taichi laughs. “Come on, it can’t have been that bad.”

Shirabu holds up the pillow he was hiding his face in threateningly. “If you ever tell another soul about this, I will murder you.”

“I’ll take it to my grave,” Taichi promises solemnly, holding back a smile.

It earns him another glare. “You’re horrible. And I… I told him…” he takes a deep breath and then he says, almost too quickly for Taichi to follow: “I told him that our team doesn’t take kindly to anyone messing with our favorite kouhai. And that Semi-san got suspended once for getting into a fistfight, that Yamagata-san has anger management issues, that they call Oohira-san ‘Benkei’ for a reason, that Tendou-san is a sociopath, and that Ushijima-san can hit a ball at 100 kilometers per hour and he could do the same with his face.”

Taichi stares at him. Blinks. Then he bursts out laughing.

He tries to stop but one glance at Shirabu’s angry, pouting face is enough to set him off again.

“Stop laughing, you dickhead,” Shirabu groans, hitting him with a pillow.

Taichi doesn’t, at least not for a while, until his laughter slowly dies down to giggles. By that time, a small smile has made its way onto Shirabu’s face.

“Say, Shirabu,” Taichi asks in his best serious tone, “how come I didn’t get to be on the list of scary senpai? Am I not cool enough for you?”

Shirabu huffs. “You’re ridiculous, you know that? And you’d help me get rid of the bodies. Obviously.”

Obviously.

4.

The sun is already setting by the time Taichi and Shirabu make it out of the gym.

They’re leaving behind the third-years who – even after having completed a five-set-game and their 100 punishment serves, insisted on playing “just a bit longer” – and Goshiki, who had fallen asleep on one of the benches, covered by Ushijima-san’s team jacket, exhausted from the game and all the crying.

Taichi shakes his head to push the thoughts away. The only thing he wants to have on his mind right now is the shower he’s going to take and the 24 hours he’s going to sleep straight through.

“I can’t wait to fall into my bed and never get up ever again,” he tells Shirabu, as they walk down the stairs in front of the gym.

Shirabu doesn’t answer.

Taichi thinks nothing of it until he has reached the bottom of the stairs and realizes that Shirabu isn’t walking next to him anymore.

When he turns around, he finds Shirabu basked in the light of the setting autumn sun, gripping the railing so tightly his knuckles turn white.

“Shirabu, you good?”

Shirabu stares at him, jaw clenched, brows furrowed. “Are you?” he scoffs in a tone that makes them both flinch.

Taichi frowns but doesn’t answer.

Shirabu keeps staring at him. “Are you?” he asks again. Angrier.

Taichi shrugs. They both know the answer to that anyway.

“Don’t fucking shrug at me. You were the one who could have blocked that last spike. Are you really telling me you don’t care about that?”

“Shirabu…”

“You could have stopped it, but you didn’t. And we lost. And you’re telling me you don’t care?”

“Of course I care!” The words burst out of Taichi, louder and sharper than he meant them too.

For a long time, they’re just looking at each other, then, Shirabu lowers his gaze. “Sorry, Kawanishi, I just…” he clenches his fist over the railing. “We lost,” he says, and it’s half question, half statement. “How did we fucking lose?”

Taichi sighs, but Shirabu isn’t done. “They suck. Their stupid cocky setter is amazing, I’ll give them that, but every single spiker on our team is better than theirs. Even Goshiki. Especially Goshiki. Fuck! We played almost perfectly today. No stupid mistakes, hardly any missed sets and Ushijima-san was amazing – beyond amazing. How did we lose? How did we fucking lose?! It makes no sense!”

When he’s finished, Shirabu is breathing heavily. There’s the same fire burning in his eyes that he gets when he steps on the court to utterly destroy his opponents.

“We’ll get them next time,” Taichi promises.

And just like that, the fire goes out. Shirabu lets go of the railing, sits down on the stairs and looks at his hands.

Taichi frowns. That wasn’t the reaction he expected. He walks back up the stairs and sits down on the step below Shirabu’s.

For a long time, neither of them says anything. Shirabu keeps staring at his hands and Taichi? Taichi stares at him. Uncertain of what to say. What to do.

“Shirabu?” he finally asks. Nothing. “… Kenjirou?”

Shirabu shakes his head the tiniest bit. Then, so quiet that Taichi almost misses it, he asks: “How?”

It takes Taichi a second to understand what he means, but before he gets to answer, Shirabu is already going on: “How _are_ we supposed to beat them, Taichi?”

Taichi’s stomach does a weird little flip at hearing his given name from Shirabu’s lips, but it’s easy enough to ignore it in face of how small, how unlike himself Shirabu sounds.

He still doesn’t look up at Taichi, his eyes stubbornly on his own hands, which he clenches to fists so tightly it probably hurts. Taichi wants to take them in his own, to unclench them, to tell Shirabu it’s all going to be okay. He doesn’t. Instead, he just keeps looking at him, right until the first tear falls on Shirabu’s hands.

Taichi expects him to wipe it away, angrily maybe, to get up and pretend this never happened. Shirabu Kenjirou doesn’t do tears and weakness, not in front of other people at least.

But instead, he just looks at it, then, finally, he raises his head. There’s another tear running down his cheek, and when his eyes meet Taichi’s, Shirabu looks lost.

“How am I supposed to do this, Taichi?”

It’s nothing more than a whisper, but to Taichi, it feels deafening. He understands that behind that one, simple question, there are a hundred more. _What are we going to do without Ushijima-san? Without the other senpai? How can we be expected to carry on the legacy when we couldn’t do so with the strongest team the school has ever seen? How can we step on the court again when the guilt is crushing us? Why us? Why us? Why me? Why me? Why me? … How?_

Taichi takes a deep breath. “Together,” he declares. “We are going to do this together.”

Shirabu looks at him for a long while, unblinkingly, then, he snorts out a startled laugh.

“That was so cheesy, Taichi,” he giggles. “’We’re going to do this, together!’ What are you? A shonen manga protagonist?”

But Taichi doesn’t even hear him.

Not over the sound of his own, rapidly beating heart.

Not over the way Shirabu looks in the soft light of the setting October sun, his eyes red and puffy from crying, in desperate need of a shower, still giggling softly. Beautiful.

Not over the realization dawning on him. _Oh. Oh... I think I am in love with him._

5.

He gets used to it. Being in love with Shirabu, that is. Or better, being in love with _Kenjirou_. Because that’s a thing now. And Taichi dies a little bit inside every time Kenjirou uses his given name.

But either way, he gets used to it and it’s a good thing too, since they’re spending more time together than ever.

Being captain and vice-captain of the team is a lot more work than Ushijima-san and Soekawa-san made it look, and Taichi sometimes grumbles that if he had known he wouldn’t have accepted the job. (He doesn’t need Kenjirou’s unimpressed but somehow still slightly amused stare to tell him that it’s not true.)

And as if that wasn’t enough, the new school year has Kenjirou and Taichi in the same class. Taichi knows he’s the one to blame for that because while Kenjirou used the extra free-time they had by not going to Nationals for studying, Taichi spent his pondering his crush on his best friend and what he was going to do about it.

The answer is surprisingly simple: nothing. Nothing at all. Kenjirou will never know. It’s not that big of a deal, after all, just some feelings, nothing Taichi can’t handle and ignore.

And so, the months pass, and Taichi becomes a master at ignoring things. He ignores the way Kenjirou takes on his responsibilities as team captain with diligence and pride. The way he’ll frown and click his pen when solving a difficult math problem. The way he almost automatically fishes the peppers out of his food and dumps them on Taichi’s plate only to receive his mushrooms in return. The way they’ll share an eye roll whenever Goshiki is doing something particularly Goshiki-esque. The way Kenjirou looks with snowflakes melting in his hair, and later cherry tree blossoms.

Except the thing about actively ignoring things, is that you are, in a way, also noticing them.

And so, he notices how Kenjirou grows more confident and comfortable in his role as Captain every day. The way his eyes light up when he finally understands the mechanics behind a math problem. The way he and Taichi are so comfortable with each other that, some days, the don’t even need to talk to know what the other is thinking. The way Kenjirou’s eyes find his more and more often when something makes him smile. The way Kenjirou is still the most beautiful person Taichi has ever seen, even drenched in sweat after four hours of volleyball practice or completely and utterly sleep deprived at 3am during their study night turned sleep-over.

It makes Taichi want to scream internally and tell Kenjirou that it’s unfair of him to make Taichi’s poor heart stutter or speed up way more often than can possibly be considered healthy.

But in the end, it also doesn’t matter. Kenjirou is his friend first, his teammate second, and Taichi’s crush is just a small part of what Kenjirou means to him. So, really, it’s easy to ignore.

Except when it isn’t.

It’s the Friday before the prefectural semi-finals and finals, and for some insane reason, Washijou-sensei has decided to cancel practice. “Go, have some fun. Be young. But get enough sleep,” he said. Currently, the team is split between those saying he is sick and those saying he is in love.

Taichi was going to enjoy his evening off by doing absolutely nothing, but that lovely plan falls through when someone comes knocking at his door.

For a moment, Taichi considers not opening, but whoever is standing on the other side of his door is persistent.

When he finally does open it, he is greeted by the sight of Kenjirou in his casual clothes, wearing a jacket that is definitely too warm for the mild May evening.

“We’re going to see a movie,” he announces before Taichi can even say hi.

“… Hello to you, too.”

Kenjirou rolls his eyes and shoves past him into his room. “Hello Taichi, please get dressed, we need to go see a movie.”

Taichi closes the door and blinks at Kenjirou, unimpressed.

“I said please,” Kenjirou pouts, tapping his foot.

Taichi huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. “Why do we _need_ to go see a movie?” He puts the “need” in air quotes.

“Because I told Goshiki we would,” Kenjirou says, as if that explained everything.

Taichi makes a face. “You’re making me watch a movie with Goshiki?” he asks, not exactly enthusiastic. Goshiki has a tendency to get very invested in movies and likes to comment his thoughts. It’s not a particularly relaxing way to spend the evening.

“What, no, I’m not stupid,” Kenjirou protests immediately. “I’m making you watch a movie with me, so we don’t have to deal with Goshiki being… himself… all evening long.”

“I’m… not sure I follow…”

Kenjirou sighs. “He came by my room earlier and asked if we could spend the evening together because he is nervous. And I… I know, I know, I’m supposed to be a good senpai or whatever, but give me a break, okay, Yunohama can deal with him tonight. Anyway, I told him no because we have plans to go see a movie together.”

“Didn’t he just ask to tag along?”

“Horror movie.”

“Ah, I see.” Taichi still vividly remembers the time Tendou-san made the whole team watch The Ring. Goshiki had had nightmares for weeks afterwards.

“So, are you coming?” Kenjirou asks impatiently.

“Can’t we just stay here instead?” Taichi pleads. Between staying in and taking the overfilled bus for forty minutes to get to the nearest cinema, it’s really an easy pick.

“He might see the light in your window. Or… you know…” Kenjirou is kneading his hands and refuses to look at Taichi.

“No, not really…”

“Are you really going to make me say it?” Kenjirou grumbles.

“Considering the fact that I don’t know what you want to say, yeah, I think so.”

Kenjirou mumbles something under his breath that sounds a lot like “damnit, Taichi” and then it all but bursts out of him: “I’m fucking anxious, okay? And if I stay here, I’m going to do nothing but panic all night, and there is no way I’ll be able to fall asleep, so can we _please_ go see a movie?”

“Oh.”

“That’s all you have to say? Oh. Come on…” Kenjirou gripes but his eyes are pleading.

As if he could refuse when Kenjirou is looking at him like that. Taichi sighs and internally says goodbye to his plans for the night. “Yeah, no, just give me a sec, I need to get dressed again.”

And that’s how they find themselves in an almost empty movie theater. And why Taichi is currently trying his hardest to remind himself that this is _not_ a date.

It was easy enough on the bus, when Kenjirou offered him one of his earbuds so they could watch videos of toddlers falling over together. Buses are not particularly romantic and all of Taichi’s brainpower went into not dying not bop-ing Kenjirou’s nose which scrunched up a little when he laughed.

It was also doable during dinner, when Kenjirou kept picking fries off of Taichi’s plate even though he maintained that they were disgusting.

And even during dessert, which Taichi only ordered because he knew it was Kenjirou’s favorite, but he wouldn't usually spend money on it. Taichi had two bites of it and then insisted that he couldn’t finish it off alone and that they had to share. Kenjirou had thrown him an unimpressed look, like he knew exactly what Taichi was doing, but that hadn’t stopped him from smiling blissfully at the first bite. It had been a particular type of torture, but Taichi had just mentally chanted “not a date”, while he watched Kenjirou hum happily around every bite.

It’s not quite so easy anymore now that they’re almost alone in the dark cinema. There is one couple in the last row, and an old man sitting a few rows in front of them, but other than that the movie theater is empty.

Just Kenjirou, Taichi, and a big bucket of popcorn for the two of them to share.

The movie is bad. Ridiculously so, and Kenjirou is scoffing and laughing and making snarky remarks next to him. Taichi is too distracted by the way their fingers sometimes brush in the popcorn bucket to really reply.

It’s almost a relief when the bucket’s empty.

Except, things don’t get better.

On the contrary.

They’re sharing the armrest between them, and it’s not exactly comfortable but Taichi is a big guy and he needs to put his arm somewhere.

_You could put it around him_ , his mind readily supplies, but he drowns out that thought really quick.

This is not a date.

Except that Kenjirou keeps glancing at him. Which Taichi knows because he can’t stop looking at him. And every once in a while, Kenjirou will move his hand and his warm fingers will brush against the back of Taichi’s hand.

It keeps happening for the rest of the movie, and by the time the credits roll, Taichi thinks he has gone a little insane from the effort not to just take Kenjirou’s hand and interlace their fingers.

The only thing Taichi will later be able to recall from their way back is the soft scent of Kenjirou’s shampoo when they end up but pressed up against each other in the overfilled bus, the way he seemed to walk just a little bit closer to Taichi than strictly necessary, their arms brushing every once in a while, and the way Kenjirou would look up at the night sky, the smile on his face illuminated by the soft glow of a street lantern, happy.

“We’re going to kick Karasuno’s ass tomorrow. And the day after that, I don’t care if it’s Datekou or Seijoh, we’ll beat them, too, and then we’re going to Nationals, Taichi,” Kenjirou says, just as they reach his dorm building.

“Yeah, we will.” There is no hesitation in Taichi’s voice. No doubt. He believes in their team. He believes in Kenjirou. The next two days are going to present them with hurdles, high ones, but they’re going to take them just like Taichi declared months ago: together.

And then, Kenjirou and him are going to step onto the center court in Tokyo. Together.

Taichi doesn’t even try to fight off his smile. Suddenly, he can’t wait for tomorrow. “We’re going to go to Nationals,” he beams at Kenjirou.

He expects a smile back, or maybe a scoff at being so excited. Instead, Kenjirou stares at him, wide-eyed, and even in the dim light of the foyer Taichi can see that he is blushing.

“You good?” Taichi asks, his voice suddenly tight, because if he is not completely mistaken, Kenjirou is looking at Taichi the way Taichi usually looks at him.

Kenjirou clears his throat and looks away quickly. “Yeah,” he says, and then again as he pulls out his keys: “Yeah.” He rubs a hand over his neck. “So… this is it, huh? Fuck, I can’t believe we’re really going to play Karasuno tomorrow. It’s weird, last year, I hardly even gave the semi-finals a second thought and now…” his voice trails off.

“Hey,” Taichi says, placing a hand on Kenjirou’s shoulder, “we got this.”

Kenjirou smiles up at him, determined. “I know we do.” Then, his eyes grow soft, and he puts his hand on Taichi’s arm. “I just… thank you for tonight, Taichi, really.” He looks away, biting his bottom lip, and Taichi can’t quite pull his eyes away from the motion.

When Kenjirou looks up at him again their eyes lock. 

For one short, endless moment, the world stands still.

The traffic noise from the highway to the East of the school grounds dies down, a bird overhead stands still mid-flight, and maybe the Earth even stops spinning. It’s not like Taichi would notice. No, because in this moment, there is only Kenjirou and the weight of his hand on Taichi’s arm, and his eyes reflecting the dim light of the foyer, and how very much Taichi wants to kiss him.

_Not a date, remember?_

Except, Kenjirou is looking at him like that, and then he is leaning in a little and––

Then he shakes his head quickly and takes a step back, Taichi’s hand falling from his shoulder. Just like that, the moment breaks. Taichi tries not to be too disappointed about it.

He just finished schooling his expression into something neutral, when Kenjirou surprises him by reaching for Taichi’s hand and giving it a quick squeeze.

“See you tomorrow, then. Don’t forget to set your alarm.” And with that, he lets go of Taichi’s hand, opens the door and disappears in the dorm building.

Taichi keeps standing there, staring after him, for longer than he cares to admit.

When he finally makes his way back to his own dorm building, there is one thing he knows for sure: finding sleep tonight is going to be difficult and it will have very little to do with being nervous about tomorrow’s game.

+1

It’s quiet on the bus during their ride back from the finals. Just like after their loss to Karasuno, six months ago.

But back then, the quiet had been tense, and lonely, occasionally interrupted by a stifled sob, everyone caught up in their own thoughts and regrets.

Now, it just feels well-earned.

The game had gone into the fifth set, and the points climbed all the way past thirty before they finally – _finally_ – scored the match point, after a rally that seemed to go on forever, hectic, all sense of strategy thrown out the window with how desperately both teams tried to keep the ball from dropping on their side of the court. And then, after a high receive from Goshiki, Kenjirou had called out “Taichi!”, and Taichi had just _known_.

They had never successfully pulled off a time-differential back-attack in a game before. But at that moment, that didn’t matter. Just like Taichi’s tired legs didn’t matter, or the three-man-block that was probably waiting for him.

At that moment, all that mattered was Kenjirou calling for him. Putting his trust in him. And then, the feeling of the ball against Taichi’s palm, and the sounds it made when it slammed down on the other side of the court. The referee’s whistle. And then Kenjirou in his arms. Sweaty and smelly and too warm. Perfect.

“We really made it, Taichi,” he had laughed, crying.

And then Goshiki had jumped on them to join in on their hug and suddenly everybody was hugging and crying and laughing.

Now, almost two hours later, after the award ceremony, being congratulated by their former senpai who had come to cheer them on, and a surprisingly emotional speech from Washijou-sensei, they are finally on their way home, and most of the team is fast asleep.

Goshiki, the hero of the game, is stretched out on top of the last seat row, snoring happily, probably dreaming of the way Ushijima-san had put a hand on his shoulder and told him “You did well. I am proud of you, Tsutomu.” all over again.

In the row in front of them, Akakura is sleeping against the window in a way that can’t possibly be good for his neck.

And next to Taichi, Kenjirou is leaning against his shoulder, dozing.

Which is why Taichi is currently the only person on the bus (safe for Saitou-sensei, who is driving) who is wide awake.

With every turn in the road, Kenjirou ends up pressed closer to Taichi’s side, and their hands keep brushing.

Taichi is so tired he could probably sleep for 24 hours straight, but as it is, he can hardly sit still.

A particularly sharp turn leaves Kenjirou all but tucked under Taichi’s chin, their hands brushing again.

Taichi allows himself five seconds to enjoy the sensation before he reluctantly pulls his hand away. Kenjirou is dozing and it’s not fair of him to take advantage of that.

Except before he can fully pull his hand away, Kenjirou grabs it and links their fingers together.

“For fuck’s sake, Taichi, learn to take a hint, will you?” he grumbles into Taichi’s collar bone.

Taichi all but jumps out of his seat.

“And stop moving. You’re not exactly a comfortable pillow as it is, the shifting doesn’t help.” It is said in a grumpy voice, but when Taichi risks a glance down at Kenjirou, he finds his cheeks a lovely shade of pink.

“Sorry,” he offers weakly, still trying to make sense of the fact that _this is really happening_.

“'s okay,” Kenjirou slurs into his shoulder, “I like you anyway.” He gives Taichi’s hand a soft squeeze. “Now stop overthinking everything and sleep. I wouldn’t put it past Washijou-sensei to make us practice tomorrow.”

Taichi chuckles. “You’re probably right about that.”

“I’m always right,” Kenjirou mumbles, as he drifts off to sleep.

Taichi takes a moment to brush the hair out of Kenjirou’s face, then he leans back and closes his eyes.

His last thought before falling asleep is how nicely their hands fit together.

**Author's Note:**

> I checked and the word "hand(s)" was mentioned 58 times in this fic. You're welcome for a useless piece of information ✨
> 
> No, but seriously, I hope you enjoyed this, and please go check out Erel's amazing art, it's softness and beautiful colours are gonna blow you away!! Go find her on [insta](https://www.instagram.com/__erel) or on [twitter](https://twitter.com/__Erel) and give her all the love - she deserves it!!! ✨💙💙

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Five Times Kawanishi Wanted to Hold Shirabu's Hand, and One Time He Did [podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25186900) by [midnightmew-podfics (midnightmew)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightmew/pseuds/midnightmew-podfics)




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